


Lady Braddock's Inheritance and the Ficus Lodge

by lea_hazel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Brother-Sister Relationships, F/M, Het, Marriage of Convenience, Marrying For An Inheritance, Opposites Attract, POV Alternating, Pre-Relationship, Regency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: A retiring gentleman. A strong-willed lady. A shambling country house, long-abandoned. A loving, yet equally strong-willed aunt, and the inheritance she willed to her favorite niece.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Proper Victorian Gentleman/Scandalous Victorian Lady
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36
Collections: Just Married Exchange 2020





	Lady Braddock's Inheritance and the Ficus Lodge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertVixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/gifts).



Although nominally it was meant to be a literate gathering for lovers of music and the arts, the gossip at the Read family's salon revolved all around certain elderly relations, and how soon they were likely to shuffle off this mortal coil. Conrad did not like to get involved in such conversations, which he found sordid and unpleasant, and what's more, had nothing to contribute. His own father had quietly retired out of public life, and his grandfather's estate had been so long tied up in legal battles, that any possible heirs had long given up hope of seeing remuneration from it. In fact, Conrad had found no one at all that he wished to speak to, other than his sister Althea and her husband, who were hosting the gathering.

"Go and mingle among the guests," Althea had told him, and Conrad had dutifully gone and... found a quiet bit of wall against which to fade.

That was where Ennis Read found him, doing his very best imitation of the pale blue flowers of the wallpaper.

"Don't be such a bore, Conrad," said Ennis. "Try talking to someone. They won't bite, you know. You only make yourself miserable when you do this."

"I haven't got anything of substance to say," replied Conrad.

"No one's expecting a philosophical treatise," said Ennis with exaggerated patience. "You could try talking about the affairs of the day, or hunting, or even the weather if you're truly desperate."

Conrad scowled. "I don't enjoy speaking about trivialities."

"Fine," said Ennis with a sigh. "Let's speak of matters of substance, then. Have you given anymore thought to my offer? There's no reason why the baron's old house should spend another generation standing derelict and falling to ruin. The cost of renovation—"

"The cost of renovating the house makes the cost of the legal proceedings look trivial," said Conrad. "At any rate, I haven't got the funds for one or the other, and I won't let you work for nothing. My father did very well for himself all his life, without ever setting foot on Ficus Lodge, or laying any kind of claim to it. As you well know, since you've profited from his successful practice."

"I know, Conrad, I know, but—"

The conversation halted as Ennis was distracted by a susurration of voices near the room's entrance, like the ripples agitated across a pond's smooth surface. Into the room entered a froth of midnight blue crepe, fashionably late, announcing itself by the soft taps of slippered feet that might as well have been gong strikes. Eyes turned to her when she glided through the room, cutting between the clumps of chatting gentlefolk and making directly for them. Miss Iona Risewell was the mildly scandalous niece of Lady Braddock. She was not beautiful, not as a portrait-painter would reckon it, but the faces of every man present turned towards her all the same, like heliotropes towards the sun.

 _And she was making directly for them_.

"I suppose as the host I'd better greet her," said Ennis. "Duty calls, but don't worry. I won't tell Althea if you slip away unnoticed before she gets here."

" _Thank you_ ," said Conrad, and immediately started inching away towards the nearest conversation.

Conrad was reasonably well distracted by the talk of music and politics. So much so that he anxiously wondered when he might reasonably make his excuses to Althea only every quarter hour, and not every five minutes. He was even beginning to enjoy himself, and wondering whether he might have made too much of a fuss about it, after all. He would still rather confine himself to rooms with fewer than ten people in them — well, fewer than six, if it could be managed — but he had promised his sister that he would try to participate, and just now, that promise felt less onerous than usual.

"Mr James," said a startlingly melodious voice just at his right elbow, making him jump.

"Beg pardon?" he replied unthinkingly.

The melodious voice slipped into a melodious laugh. "I must beg yours, I think. I didn't mean to startle you. Mrs Read's brother, am I correct?"

Conrad gathered his wits about him and turned to face the woman, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Yes, that's correct. And whom do I have the pleasure to address?"

By the time the words were out of his mouth, they were unnecessary. Conrad blanched, and felt his mouth turn to paper. Before him was the froth of midnight blue and tumble of black curls that announced Iona Risewell. He stumbled through the rote phrases of introduction, trying to recollect himself. Why was Iona Risewell speaking to him? They hardly knew one another. Nor was she particularly well-acquainted with his sister, although Althea had clearly invited her to the salon.

"How may I be of service, Miss Risewell?" asked Conrad.

Miss Risewell smiled, tilting her head to one side. "You puzzle me, Mr James," she said. "Puzzle and amuse."

"I'm sure I haven't done anything the least bit puzzling," he protested.

She laughed softly. "I make no accusations," she said. "I'm simply wondering why you didn't make my acquaintance before now. I believe I have been introduced to every gentleman in this room except you. Mrs Read was most kind."

"I assure you, I had no intention of slighting anyone," replied Conrad, "and I believe you were well supplied with conversational partners. I did not think we would have any common topics of discussion."

"Oh?" said Miss Risewell, raising a delicate black brow. "Not a single subject of conversation? Are we, two English gentlefolk, so far removed from each other in the spheres of our lives?"

"I lead a quiet life, Miss Risewell," said Conrad. "I'm not in the habit of— of cavorting with opera singers, and the like."

Miss Risewell's face was smooth as marble, and her voice honeyed, when she replied, "I do not _cavort_. I merely appreciate the arts, and those who perform them. Still, I'm sure the sentiment you expressed will be appreciated by your future wife, if you have one in mind."

"Not—" said Conrad, struggling with himself. "Not of late, Miss Risewell."

Her sculpted face creased. "I apologize. I ought not to have brought up such a painful subject of conversation."

"It's not painful," said Conrad shortly, "only embarrassing."

"All the more reason to apologize," said Miss Risewell. "I must excuse myself, Mr James. I see your sister fanning herself quite pointedly to catch my attention."

He took his leave of her and went to find another blue-patterned wall to melt into, wishing that he had the power to sink into the floor and disappear.

*

Conrad descended to breakfast the next morning in a low mood, but Althea was sanguine. She hummed tunelessly to herself as she buttered her toast, and smiled at him when he took a seat across from her. Her husband was nowhere to be seen. Off to work already, he assumed. As their father's former protege, Ennis had assumed most of Barnaby James' work habits, as well as his business. Conrad had no head for either business or law, thus disappointing both his parents, and so after his engagement to Althea, Ennis had inevitably become the favored son.

"What makes you scowl so intensely at your coffee cup, Conrad?" asked Althea, reaching across the table to snatch up a pot of jam he'd been eyeing.

"Nothing," he replied, with a deep sigh.

"Mm hmm," she agreed. "Iona Risewell was looking for you, last night."

"Was she," said Conrad tonelessly.

Althea set down her butter knife pointedly. "You had better be a little more polite to Miss Risewell, I think."

"I was the soul of courtesy," he retorted, "and why?"

"Need I remind you that she's Lady Braddock's niece?" asked his sister.

"I know that," said Conrad. "It was all anyone could talk about, last night. Apparently her ladyship is ill. I'm not sure how that concerns us, in particular."

"Apparently I do need to remind you," said his sister with a theatrical sigh. "Before she married Lord Braddock, she was Mrs Cornelia Tabiner, _your godmother_."

Mr Tabiner had once been their grandfather's most trusted business partner. After his death, Mrs James had been at pains to preserve her father's legacy by maintaining the connection with his widow. When he was very young, Mrs Tabiner would often send letters to his mother, enquiring after young Conrad's wellbeing, but after her second marriage, the letters petered off. Mrs James had once confided to him that she meant to renew the connection, but that had been years ago.

"We haven't heard a word from Mrs Tabiner in years, Althea," said Conrad. "Has mother been writing to her all this time?"

Althea wrinkled her nose. "I don't know, but if you're going to write to her yourself, you'd better talk to the niece, first. Otherwise you'll come off exactly like all the other vultures, circling around her as soon as rumor spreads of her ill-health."

"I'll call on Miss Risewell, then," said Conrad, "and you might as well write to mother, and ask her whether she's had word from her ladyship. If I want to convey her best regards, I'd prefer it if I could do so in all honesty."

Althea laughed at his misgivings, and waved him off. Conrad took the time to finish his coffee, but decided not to linger too long over breakfast. Though he had no idea what sort of hours Miss Risewell kept to, he could always leave a card and return the next day. In fact, that might make things much easier. It would give him a whole day more to think about what to say to her.

*

"A Mr Conrad James has left his card for you, miss."

Iona looked up from her newspaper. "Rather early for calling cards, isn't it?" she said, to no one in particular. "Show him to the parlor, please."

"Should I bring in refreshments, miss?" asked the parlor-maid.

Iona tipped her head to one side, thinking. "Yes, but take your time about it."

A very secret, wicked, mischievous part of her wanted to watch Althea Read's brother wait and sweat. She folded her newspaper carefully and left it exactly where her father would expect to find it, in an hour or so, looking practically untouched. Resisting the temptation to pat her hair and make sure it was still properly curled, she caught her reflection in profile in the small looking glass hanging on the wall across. She looked presentable enough, she supposed, and she could only remind herself that Mr James had humbled himself to seek out her company. And that he had probably expected to leave his card and depart.

Iona swanned into the parlor just as though she had a full array of tail feathers to wave about. She turned towards Conrad James as if surprised to see him, and said, "Mr James! What an unexpected delight to see you this morning."

"Miss Risewell," he said, looking like a gingerbread man that had just been popped out of the oven. "A pleasure to see you, too."

At the sight of his poor red face, Iona lost all delight in making the fellow squirm. "What brings you to my parlor? Did you wish to continue our fascinating conversation of last night? I'd heard — secondhand, of course — that you had some insights to offer on the subject of Italian operas. I'd be most interested for you to share them."

His forehead creased. "Perhaps another time, Miss Risewell," he said. "The truth is, my sister and I have heard that your aunt Lady Braddock is not well, and it has brought us some concern. Our mother once considered her a friend, and I know it would distress her if I didn't ask after her ladyship's well-being."

"How thoughtful of you both," said Iona, affecting a smile. "Of course I'm well acquainted with Althea's generous nature, but she never told me of this family connection. How strange that you and I might almost be called relations."

"Not quite, I think," said Mr James.

"Well, I must write to my dear aunt and ask her about this long-lost connection," said Iona. "It will bring her great comfort, I'm certain. Her ill-health has been distressing, to be sure, but it's remarkable how many old friends and forgotten relations have made a point of sending their best wishes. It's enough to warm the heart." She smiled again, taking no care to appear sincere.

"As you say, of course, Miss Risewell," said the dreadfully dull Mr James. "I see the subject of your aunt's health brings you distress. Perhaps we should speak of lighter matters."

She spent the next fifteen minutes interrogating his knowledge of current events.

*

His visit with Miss Risewell was less than satisfactory, and Conrad returned to his sister's house in a state of agitation. He struggled to explain to his sister what it was that Miss Risewell had said, that put him in such a sour mood. It was difficult to convey her infinitely disdainful tone of voice, and how completely ill-at-ease she had made him, without saying anything particularly indecorous. This inability to express himself only worsened his mood, and he sought relief by burying himself in the library, where he could be alone.

He was therefore much surprised when the next day a letter arrived, addressed to him, and bearing Iona Risewell's surprisingly elegant signature at the bottom.

He passed it on to Althea at the breakfast table. "What do you make of this?"

Althea scanned the short note quickly, and, stumbling on one thing or another, went back and read it again.

_Mr James,_

_My sincerest apologies for my unwelcoming conduct during our interview of the other day. Since my aunt's illness we have received a great many callers asking after her health in a manner most mercenary and insincere. I'm afraid this display of human unkindness has encouraged me to become suspicious of people's motivations, and I ascribed to you a motive more low and dishonest than I had any right to. It was uncalled for, and I hope you will accept my apology._

_Since we parted ways, I've been fortunate to receive a letter from Lady Braddock, which confirms the connection you alleged and names her your godmother. Indeed, she speaks of you in warm terms, and has nothing but praise for your personal merits. In light of this, I invite you to call on me tomorrow morning, as I believe the two of us have important business to discuss._

_Your sincerely,_

_Iona Risewell._

"I don't know her particularly well," said Althea, once she had read the letter a third time, "but Iona Risewell does not have a reputation for toying with or deceiving people. If she invites you to discuss business, she is probably being sincere. I think you should go."

Conrad frowned. "What business do you think she wants to discuss?"

Althea raised an eyebrow. "I can think of one bit of business that would benefit you both."

He looked at her in horror. "You _can't_ be serious."

"Go and meet with her," advised his sister. "Be honest and polite."

"I always am!" he objected.

"And _be nice_ ," she added, firmly. "We're fortunate to learn that Lady Braddock still remembers our family fondly, despite our negligence in maintaining the connection. We're especially fortunate that she remembers this in her illness. Miss Risewell is clearly closer with her aunt than I supposed, and I imagine she knows better than most what sort of terms her ladyship intends to dictate for her will, should the worst come to pass."

"Now you _are_ being mercenary," said Conrad.

"I'm being practical," said Althea. "Conrad, you know you're welcome to live with me for as long as you like, and goodness knows that Ennis is only too happy to host you. I can't imagine it's a very satisfying life for _you_ , however. Don't you want your own household, that you can run as you see fit?"

"Running a household sounds like a great deal of bother," he grumbled.

"Even if it's Ficus Lodge?" asked Althea.

*

Lady Braddock's letter had been timely and informative. She wrote warmly of Mrs James' thoughtful letters and reminisced at length about her first husband and the social circle they had once stood at the center of. Everything in her letter aligned with Mr James' version of events, and Iona couldn't help but feel a pang of conscience at her treatment of him. She was being too defensive of her aunt, she knew, and she knew also that Lady Braddock was nothing if not capable of defending herself, even from her sickbed. There was nothing to it but to write a letter of her own, an apology to the man she had taken such pains to discomfit, only yesterday.

She added in the invitation almost as an afterthought. When Aunt Cornelia was better, Mr James could go visit her and pay his dues. She could see for herself whether the reports she'd received of her godson were accurate, and whether he had grown up to be as fine a gentleman as she'd imagined. Maybe reforging the connection that was lost would alleviate Aunt Cornelia's frustration, and she would let lie that other matter. Iona was quite certain that she did not need a husband, and if she did require one, she would not choose such a one as Conrad James, no matter how gentlemanly he was, nor how fond she was of his sister.

It was time for her to visit Aunt Cornelia in person, and make her opinion on the matter clear. She'd been planning on waiting until her aunt was stronger, so as not to tax her while she was recovering from her illness. Her overlong absence, however, had planted strange notions in her ladyship's mind, and Iona was anxious to dispel those notions. She was sitting uncomfortably with these thoughts and others, drawing up a list of what she needed to pack for her visit, when the maid tapped the door and informed her that Conrad James had arrived for a visit.

Mr James looked, if anything, more ill-at-ease than he had on his first visit.

"I hope I find you and your family well, Miss Risewell," he said, his hand twitching as though longing to adjust his collar.

"As well as could be hoped," replied Iona, "except for Aunt Cornelia, of course. Your sister is likewise well?"

His face twisted in a grimace. "Althea is as she has ever been, robust and officious."

This startled a laugh out of her. "And here I thought the two of you were a model of harmonious siblinghood."

"I love my sister dearly," he said, "but her notions of the world and mine don't always align as well as I might wish for."

Iona winced in sympathy, thinking of Lady Braddock's letter. "I know what you mean. I've heard from my aunt that your family has had some legal difficulties. Matters of inheritance, I understand."

He looked at her, wide-eyed with startlement, but recalled himself hastily. "The house that belonged to my great-grandfather," he said. "My late grandfather and his brothers fought bitterly over it, and their children after them. My generation seems rather less keen to sink itself into that particular legal quagmire."

"But your father was a solicitor, was he not?" asked Iona. "He didn't advise your mother to pursue the inheritance? There's no underestimating the value of having an additional property in the family, even when separated from the title."

"Even when the property in question has been derelict for thirty or forty years," he said, "and the cost of repairs amounts to a small fortune?"

This gave her pause, while her mind slid pieces of the puzzle here and there, trying to click them into place. "An inheritance derelict and in debt," she said thoughtfully, "and a long-neglected godmother in her sickbed, rewriting her will. I suppose now I know why she wrote to me."

Mr James blinked. "You mean her ladyship's letter?"

Iona propped her chin on her fist inelegantly and regarded him. "I suppose you might as well read it. She speaks quite warmly of you, you know, especially considering I'd never heard her mention your name before. I suppose her illness brings out a desire to attend to long-forgotten business."

"Is that the business that you mentioned in your letter to me?" asked Mr James.

"Oh, yes," said Iona, waving a hand. "Yes, I think you ought to visit her ladyship, but you had best wait a few weeks, and give her time to recover from her illness."

Mr James opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Iona then directed the conversation to more pleasant avenues, and was very nearly successful in coaxing an actual opinion out of the reticent Mr James. She began to think that, with time and effort, he might make an agreeable conversational partner, if only he could be brought to speak his mind freely to her. For his own part, he seemed to have lost the hour, and was prepared to extend his visit past the generally accepted bounds of a social call. And he might have done so, if the maid had not interrupted them with another tap on the door.

"This arrived urgently for Mr Risewell," said the maid, presenting a letter with a cracked seal on a tray, "and he's asked for you to read it, miss."

Iona took the open letter and dismissed the maid before she opened it, her eyes flying over the unfamiliar hand. When she was finished reading, she folded the letter up again, and set it on the table before her, folding her own hands in her lap. She looked up, and found Conrad James still sitting in the chair opposite her, his hands gripping the arm rests claw-like, his mouth tightened into a flat line.

"The letter is from her ladyship's solicitor," said Iona. "I suppose I was too hopeful in my assessment. She told me herself that I was prone to it. She called it the optimism of youth. Mr James, I'm afraid you won't be able to visit Lady Braddock when she recovers from her illness, as I've just had word of her passing."

His tight grip on the chair loosened, and he exhaled, slumping back. "My deepest condolences, Miss Risewell," said Mr James, looking only too heartfelt with his wide, dark eyes. "If there's any way in which I or my family may be of assistance, please don't hesitate to ask."

Iona shook herself and met his eyes to say, "I suppose you had better know than not. In her last letter to me, Aunt Cornelia advised me to marry you."

*

"And when I departed, she was making arrangements for her mourning," concluded Conrad.

Althea, who had listened to his report with her fingers steepled and a grave expression, regarded him with some alarm. "You just left?"

"She was very busy. She seemed like she had her hands full. I thought I would only be in the way," said Conrad, though he felt as soon as the words left his mouth how weak and insufficient his answer was.

"Miss Risewell has just lost a beloved aunt, and she all but proposed marriage to you," said Althea. "You ought to have stayed."

"Has she, though?" he asked, looking down to fiddle with his napkin.

"Well," amended his sister, "I suppose she hasn't _quite_ proposed, but I must say, she came very near it. A mite unusual, even for a lady who flouts convention as much as she does."

"That's not what I meant, Althea," he said. "When I left, she was writing out an order for her mourning attire, and instructing the staff briskly about what to pack for her journey. She didn't ask for my comfort, and she didn't look like she needed it. She didn't so much as shed a tear."

"Not every lady vents her feelings by weeping on the shoulder of a sympathetic gentleman, Conrad," rebuked his sister. "We may not be intimate friends, but I fancy I know Iona well enough, by reputation if nothing else. She loved her aunt dearly. And you can hardly fault her for wanting to attend to her ladyship's rites, nor for wanting to be properly attired when she does so."

"She might have left all that to her father, or to a trusted maid," he argued.

"Perhaps the busywork is just her way of expressing her grief. Everyone mourns differently."

Conrad thought this over. "I don't understand it," he finally said.

"The marvelous thing about people being different from each other," said Althea with an air of sagacity beyond her years, "is that you're not required to _understand_. Show her that you can allow her to have her way, even when you don't understand it, and your marriage may be off to a fine start."

"What marriage?" he asked, frowning. "Surely she can't think of planning a wedding until she's out of mourning. It's not seemly."

"One notes," said Althea, in tones of infuriating smugness, "that your personal objections to the lady in question have vanished like morning mist."

*

They called on the grieving household a week later, all three of them together. Althea leaning on Ennis's arm and pulling him ahead, and Conrad trailing awkwardly behind them. The same maid led them into the same parlor that he had seen twice before, now, but this time they were received by Mr and Mrs Risewell. Iona's parents were a staid pair, both in mourning blacks, the gentleman looking as though he had grayed overnight, and his wife's eyes red with tears. After the necessary rituals had been observed, Conrad inquired gently after their daughter.

Mrs Risewell smiled a watery smile. "Iona has committed herself to the cause of making sense of Lady Braddock's charitable contributions. Her ladyship's bequests were— baffling, but quite specific."

"You know, my dear," said Mr Risewell, turning to his wife, "I do believe our daughter thinks that no one but her is qualified to take on such an exalted endeavor."

"I think it's generous of her to dedicate her time to making certain that her aunt's final wishes are adhered to," said Althea. "It speaks well of her affection for her ladyship."

"Yes, they were confidantes," agreed Mrs Risewell. "Perhaps unusual, given the difference in ages, but until she fell ill, they corresponded briskly for years."

"It must be a difficult time for her," said Althea.

The couple exchanged a look.

"The difficult time will come in a month or so, when the finality of it all has had time to sink in," opined her father and, turning to Conrad and particular, added, "We would be grateful if you found the time to call on her then."

During the carriage ride home, both Ennis and Althea watched him curiously, but it was Ennis who finally broke the silence.

"Mr Risewell seems fond of you," he said cautiously.

Conrad glared at him. "I don't know what she told them, nor what they concluded from her words, but this means nothing. The only reason I didn't correct them is out of respect for their recent loss."

"Of course, darling," said Althea, leaning over to pat his hand. "Of course."

*

There was a great deal to be done, and at first Iona was all right. More than all right. She was active and busy, she could fill her days and feel useful, and immersing herself in Aunt Cornelia's papers was almost like talking to her again. Not the frail, always tired aunt of the last few months, but the vivid, razor-sharp woman she had loved and admired. For as long as there was work to do, she could put off the inevitable emptiness that followed, and she could put the problem of Conrad James out of her mind.

Not that the man himself was much of a problem. He had proven that he had opinions every bit as vivid as Aunt Cornelia, in her time, and only wanted a little encouragement to express them. Iona rather thought that they could have been friends, if circumstances had been different. The reality of it, however, was that he was an unmarried gentleman and she was a lady who stood to inherit a not-inconsiderable sum of money, for Aunt Cornelia had made good on the threat in her last letter, and conditioned the bulk of the sum on Iona's marrying a worthy gentleman. What constituted a man worthy of being married to was the last great bone of contention between them.

Then again, Iona didn't really enjoy conversing with people who agreed with her, so perhaps that was also the source of their intimacy.

When the papers ran out, and the house had been emptied, and the consolers and well-wishers had been graciously hosted and disposed of, Iona sat alone in the parlor and looked blankly at the empty surface of her writing desk. She was sulking and she knew it, and she hated it. Aunt Cornelia would never have approved. By some great feat of will, she shook herself and stood up, so energetically that the chair she was sitting in jerked off its feet and fell back down with a rattle.

"Miss?"

She'd been so entranced in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard the tap on the door. "Yes?"

"There's a letter for you," said the maid.

Iona stared at the folded letter for a moment before ripping it open, her eyes dancing over the few written lines.

_Miss Risewell,_

_I must convey my most earnest condolences over the passing of Lady Braddock, as I have not been able to give them in person. I have called upon your family but been assured that you had pressing business and would not be receiving visitors. If your preoccupation is now concluded, my sister and I would be honored to host you for dinner at Read House, three days hence._

_I believe our business has not been concluded. If you agree, I hope you will oblige us with your presence. Althea is very looking forward to speaking with you._

_Sincerely,_

_C. James._

A dinner party? No, surely not. Not with the retiring and reticent Mr James at the helm. Just the Reads, then, and perhaps one or two other guests but herself, for propriety's sake. Yes, he seemed the sort to care about appearances, perhaps more than he cared to care. Iona disliked the thought of being continuously consoled by a dozen dinner guests she hardly knew, not when she had not yet time to open the Pandora's box where her own grief lay in hiding. An intimate gathering of friends, though, that was another matter, and surely Althea Read had tact enough to redirect the conversation when necessary.

Then there was the matter of her unfinished business with Althea's brother. Did he have the right of it? Was there something more for them to discuss? It occurred to Iona that she had no idea whether he would even _want_ to marry her, nor even if he wished to marry at all. It might be easier to get an answer to that question from Althea than from the man himself. She could do it at dinner, if she wrote back now to accept. The Risewells were still deep enough in mourning that they were not hosting guests at all, and all she had to look forward to at dinner was her mother's sighs and her father's low grumbles. Not much by way of conversation, unless she wished to discuss what a disappointment she was to her family.

Papa had met Mr James and liked him well enough, she knew, though why that might affect her decision on the matter, she wasn't quite as certain of.

Iona realized that she was still standing in the middle of the parlor, the letter clutched in her hand, staring unseeingly at it. The maid was hovering anxiously a step or two away.

"Go fetch me a footman, Mary," she said, sitting back down to her desk. "I need him to deliver my reply to Read House."

*

They were an even six at dinner, made up of three reasonably well-matched pairs. The Reads and Mr James hosted of course, and besides herself they had invited a pair of their acquaintances, a brother and sister. The brother was, as she understood it, an old school chum of Ennis Read's, who had gone into the legal profession as well. He joked often that Mr Read was the only one of his colleagues he could bear dining with, since he was never so tedious as to bring his work conversation home with him. His best feature by far was having not a word to say regarding Lady Braddock's inheritance.

"I'm so very glad you accepted our invitation," said Althea to her, once they had retired to the parlor. "Ennis was concerned that it was too soon for you to properly accept, but I told him he was too exacting in his standards, and that if Conrad asked sweetly enough, you were sure to accept."

Iona glanced sidelong at Mr James and Mr Read, who were chatting amicably on the opposite side of the room. "Yes, your brother mentioned that you wished me particularly to attend."

Althea flashed a wide, dimpled smile. "You accepted for my sake? How very sweet of you."

Iona laughed, which made the gentlemen turn and look their way. "Not quite, Mrs Read, though I certainly factored your anticipation into my decision."

"I'm glad," said Althea, and she looked it. "I think it's very important that we should know in advance whether we can converse properly and get along as good friends do."

Iona tipped her head to one side and looked at her quizzically. "Is it, Mrs Read? I'm not certain I take your meaning."

"Oh, you sly girl," said Althea chidingly. "You might have intuited by now that Conrad only likes to do and say those things that he's quite certain of. Ennis was the same way. Didn't even think of courting me until he knew my father approved, and wouldn't _dream_ of proposing marriage until he was as certain as can be that I would accept. He quite hounded Conrad about it, I gather."

"I'm not sure I would be as impressed by such timidity as you seem to have been," she replied.

"I don't think he was being timid at all," said Althea. "Considerate, rather. Turning down a proposal is an unpleasant onus. I believe you've had the opportunity to discover as much."

Iona glanced again at Conrad, and tried to imagine his face as she was turning him down.

"Yes, I think you see my point," said Althea with satisfaction. "I'm rather fond of you, Miss Risewell, and I would be glad if we could be friends. I'm afraid if you toy with my brother, that won't be possible at all."

Late that night, before she went to bed, she jotted down a note and resolved to send it to Read House first thing in the morning.

_Dear Mr James,_

_I do believe you're correct about our unfinished business. Please call on me at your earliest convenience._

_Sincerely,_

_I. Risewell._

*

"It was Lady Braddock's wish that I should marry," said Iona, "and she was sufficiently determined to make my inheritance contingent upon it."

"Surely her ladyship did not expect you to marry so shortly out of mourning," said Conrad. "You may well dismiss the opinion of others regarding the impropriety of it, but do you really want to be wed so soon after your aunt's death?"

"Lady Braddock had little patience for extended rituals of mourning," replied Iona crisply, "and nor do I."

Conrad could not understand it, and he was about to say as much, when Iona spoke again.

"However—” she began.

His breath arrested.

"I do not wish to make a marriage of convenience," she went on.

He felt his heart stutter. She was going to turn him down.

Her face softened, and she met his eyes. "If I'm going to be married, I want to be courted. Romanced, and properly, not in haste. That it would be of benefit to both parties monetarily should be – a side issue."

All at once his heart started again, and he felt a great rush of warmth fill his chest. Conrad opened his mouth to speak, and hesitated. "I don't know how to do that."

Iona smiled at him with entirely unwarranted confidence. "You'll figure it out."

"We had better wait with the engagement, then," he replied, "in case you change your mind."

"There is time enough for that," said Iona. "I will be leaving the city soon, you should know. Mama believes that some time in the country will be good for my health, and the physical exercise will invigorate me."

"I will write to you," he promised hastily. "Writing comes more easily to me than some other things."

Iona smiled so brightly that it warmed Conrad's heart all over again.

"I would like that," she said.

"Letters keep longer," he ventured to add. "You can reread the old ones, if the next one is late. I will need your direction, of course."

She wrote it down for him on a scrap of paper from her desk. His eyes followed her long fingers as she dipped the pen in ink, then flew over the blank white paper. It seemed to him that even the simplest things she did, she managed to imbue with preternatural grace.

"Are you quite all right?" she asked, amused, as she handed him the folded note.

"Just lost in thought," said Conrad, and added impulsively, "I'll put it in my first letter."

He opened the note just to glance at it and was taken aback at the name on it.

"What is it?" asked Iona.

"Althea said you were sly," said Conrad, shaking his head. "Presumably you know that this fine lodging house you intend to stay in is a mere hour's walk from Ficus Lodge."

"Is it?" asked Iona innocently.

Conrad just looked at her until she dissolved into laughter, and he couldn't help but crack a smile.

"I think I'm being quite reasonable," she said. "Mama said I would need the peace and quiet of the country, but that sounds dreadfully dull to me. I will need something to occupy my time. I think cataloguing the state of the house, and what repairs it might need before it's habitable again, it a very sensible use of my time."

"So it is," agreed Conrad, "if a bit mercenary."

"Ah, you finally found a way to turn my slight back upon me," she said. "Clever man. You don't mind terribly much if I'm a little mercenary, do you?"

Conrad smiled and said, "I wouldn't see you be any way but as you are."


End file.
